


Defend You Till My Dying Breath and Far Beyond

by RankstrailOfDagliar



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Original Work
Genre: Blood and Violence, Deathfic, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 08:33:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30136821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RankstrailOfDagliar/pseuds/RankstrailOfDagliar
Summary: A maniac fanatic fights to death for his God and the God's Lady.Based very loosely on the Dark Brotherhood from Skyrim, taking place in a personal AU of mine. Brain sparkles just hit, had to get them out.
Kudos: 1





	Defend You Till My Dying Breath and Far Beyond

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for violence, religious themes and some minor gore, if you want to call it that.  
> Doesn't necessarily make sense without backstory, but hey, I enjoy writing violence, so sue me.

They were going to break through.

The wooden beam Lucien had used to barricade the door was slowly but surely giving to the forceful bangs from the other side. They were hammering away at the door with what sounded like full on siege equipment. Lucien didn’t think that the Lady was actually worth that much to them, not that it mattered.  
All that mattered was that she was everything to him. Everything to Sithis. And that Lucien would eat his own heart if the Dread Lord or his Lady demanded it.

He took a glance towards the back wall of the cavern, where his Lady was slumped against a rubble of stone. They were in an abandoned mineshaft, the main part of the room covered with loose boulders. There was no exit, the only entrance being currently besieged by the soldiers.  
Lucien’s brows furrowed in worry as he saw that the Lady hadn’t moved from her position on the floor, still clutching her hands to the deep gash in her side, her life slowly flowing out as dark red liquid seeped through her fingers.

She slowly lifted her head, calling out to him with pain in her voice.  
Lucien hurried to her side, hands fidgeting helplessly with his blades, unable to stop the continuous flow of blood from her wound.

“My child.” Lucien’s eyes shot up to look at her.  
“Listen, I fear that… What I wanted to do here is - “, she coughed wetly, “is not gonna happen like this. We… we will have to approach this differently.”  
Lucien lifted his brows as the Lady gathered her strength for her next words.  
“My lover… I believe he is calling me home to him.”  
“But you - we aren’t finished here! We haven’t even started! The heathens out there - “  
“Hush,” his Lady commanded softly, and he shut his mouth.  
“You are right, we haven’t come very far. And yet, every step has brought them closer to the loving embrace of the Void.”  
“I know, but -”  
“Lucien.”

He fell silent and lowered his eyes.  
She sighed. “My child, I know. I understand your frustration. You have to understand that there is no escape from here. We are literally backed into a wall here.”  
“I cannot watch them lay their hands on you, hurt you… or kill you”, he whispered.  
“I know. I know. Listen, my lover will ensure that our efforts are not in vain. He will find a way to continue what we started, even if it is in a different way than what we planned.”  
“How? How can I protect you when you are dead?”

“Lucien, you have to trust in the Dread Lord.”

“...I will tear them apart.” he pressed out between clenched teeth, gripping his blades until his knuckles cracked. “I will rip their limbs from their bodies and paint this floor with their blood. I will-”

He stopped as his Lady raised a gentle hand to his face. He could feel her blood smearing on his cheek as he leaned into the touch.  
She smiled softly. “I know, my child, I know. You will gift all of their lives to my lover, and they will only feel the Void as they breathe their last breath.”

He sheathed one blade and clutched her hand, tears running down his bloodied cheeks as he pressed his head to her shoulder. She gently patted his back as he silently shook, holding him close.  
“Hush, my dear, it will be alright, it will all be alright.”

She gently pushed him back, looking him in the eyes.  
“Now, fight, my warrior. Tear them apart, crush them, make them bleed. Make them bleed for your Lord, for my lover.”

Lucien pressed his lips together, slowly moving to stand as determination grew in his heart. He would make sure these fucking soldiers would know the wrath of Sithis. He would carve it into their skin, would flood the cavern with their heathen blood, until they drowned in it.  
With a snarl, he unsheathed both his blades, and turned back towards the entrance of the cave.

The weak panting of his Lady was barely noticeable against the banging on the door, the wood of the beam blocking it cracking and splintering in certain places.

Cocking his head, Lucien regarded the entrance and the surrounding structure. There were wooden beams lining the ceiling of the cave. Albeit partly collapsed and rotten, the ones by the door still looked somewhat stable.  
He quickly scaled the wall next to the entrance, sheathing his right blade, clinging to one of the beams as he hung from the ceiling like an oversized bat.

His arms were slightly beginning to tremble as the door finally gave, pieces of wood being shot into the small cavern.  
The second the first two soldiers stormed through the door, Lucien let himself drop silently, and before they knew what was happening, he had slashed one throat, the other soldier recoiling in surprise so Lucien only managed to graze his cheek. He quickly pursued, his opponent only barely managing to deflect his blow with his own sword. With a swift twirl, Lucien danced away from the shield the soldier had wanted to bash him with, and drove his left blade deep into the heathen’s lower abdomen.

Meanwhile, the rest of the soldiers swarmed into the cavern, forcing Lucien backwards to avoid getting simply overrun.  
He took the lives of another two soldiers, an older woman and a man who was barely more than a boy, slowly retreating towards his fallen Lady.

The soldiers formed a loose half-circle around them, weapons clutched in trembling hands.

He burst into a wide grin as he unsheathed his second blade, while lifting his already bloodied one to his lips. Staring the leader of the soldiers - a woman looking to be in her early forties - straight in the eyes, he slowly let his tongue graze the edge, the sharp blade cutting into his own tongue. The corners of his mouth stretched even further towards his ears, face contorted into an almost painful grin.

The woman stared in horror as he slowly, almost sensually, licked the blood off the blade.

With a small shake of her head, she seemed to gather herself and growled between clenched teeth.  
“You have no chance, stand down and we may grant you a quick death, fanatic.”

Lucien laughed shrilly. “I will protect my Lady till my dying breath, and the Void will sing with the screams of you heathens!”

With a snarl, he threw himself forward, dual blades forming a deadly half-circle, consuming everything and everyone in its way.

He slashed through skin, cloth and armour, through muscles, tendons and throats, drunk on the sound of tearing skin, the metallic taste of blood, and the screams of the soldiers. He bathed in their horror, in their agony and their fear. His head was only filled with one thought. Kill for the Dread Lord, send their souls to the Void, sacrifice them in blood and pain and fear.

He laughed as his own blood filled his mouth, he laughed as the first blade slashed his skin, he laughed as an axe embedded itself in his left thigh.

Lucien felt weightless, detached from his body and yet so, so alive! He didn’t feel the pain as another sword cut into his shoulder, nerves numbed to the agony, mind filled only with a burning passion as he brought his own blades down again and again. When a deep gash on his hand made his muscles drop his left blade, he continued with his hand, slamming his broken and twisted fingers into faces and against armour, not caring if it really did anything. His sight was filled with red, red from the blood, red from the pain and their oh so sweet fear.

He still laughed as he suddenly found himself on the ground, body having apparently overridden his mindless ecstasy, and he still laughed as another axe embedded itself into his body, this time on his right side, just below his ribs. He laughed and coughed and screamed as the captain of the soldiers rammed her sword into his torso again and again, tears running down his face from the agony and from the loss of his Lady.

His last thought before everything went blissfully quiet and blank, before he sank into the sweet sweet void, was of his Lord, and his Lady, as his lips quietly formed a last “Hail Sithis”.


End file.
